Transformers: Machine Wars
by Zero Input
Summary: Sentience and intelligent life has all but been scoured from Cybertron. A workbot, Megaplex, investigates its cryptic past and destructive future.


MACHINE WARS

Chapter 1: World without Sentience

It happened a vorn ago. But I remember it as if it were yesterday. The wars with the Autobots wes just beginning. Megatron, my mentor, started to wipe out Autobot city after Autobot city, gaining power and prestige wherever he went. He had an elite group of cohorts, each with a specified role. The whole planet trembled beneath his feet. The universe would belong to the Decepticons.

But then, out of nowhere, a warship of otherworldly properties appeared in the skies over Cybertron. Those were the days of Mega Prime. He towered above all the Decepticons, and with his menagerie of powerful weapons, he single-handedly wiped out their forces, including Megatron. Then he instigated a new world order.

Every Transformer, except for Prime's High Council, would be thrown into hard labor. From most, except for a select few, sparks were removed and destroyed. We were reduced to a world without sentience, a lifeless metal husk floating through lifeless space. I thought Cybertron would be so much better.

"Megaplex!" It was Deathroll. He always derailed me of my daydreams while we worked in the Energon pits. I turned to face him. "What's wrong? We have to get these energy conductors back to the work station. Then we can have an Energon break."

"Sorry—" I said. "Just thinking of old times."

"You need to stop."

"Why?"

"The past is dangerous. All we have is the present and future."

"But what if it was different? What if Megatron succeeded? What if—"

"'What if' is also dangerous."

"'What if' is the light of the twin suns Cybertron orbits about."

"Yeah," he flung a couple of conductors about his shoulders, clenching his servos. "Well, if you get too close to that light you'll burn." We went away, headed for the work station, another day spent on Cybertron, wasted? What's the use of energy, if no one has life inside their bodies? What is the use of living when tomorrow is the same as yesterday and the day before? I yearned for something to happen desperately. What I didn't know is that something would fall on our laps the very next day.

We were doing our job as usual, the mining bots drilling into the planet's bosom for Energon to be turned into cubes or energy conductors. This part of the planet would be rife for war: mountains and mountains of nothingness, abundant in hiding places and clefts for heart-pumped warriors to duck behind and take position. But no. The place only is used for mining Energon, as we sucked our planet dry of raw materials, just to be a useless speck in the great expanse of the universe, leaving no etch of our existence.

I sighed after many breems of nothing and pointless jabber with Deathroll.

That's when it happened. A mining bot next to us began to malfunction. Naturally, we went to investigate. It started to spit out spews of sparks all about, and smoked out of its back. We exchanged glances. The same words were on our mouthpieces, but neither of us spoke. The robot began to speak in an ancient Cybertronian language. "Can you understand him?" Deathroll was younger than I. I could.

"'Must find paradox machine,'" I said. "The rest is jibberish."

The mech began to make its way out of the mining grounds, still smoking and sparking. "Let's follow it," I said. "It might know something useful."

"No," Deathroll said. "If the service bots find us wandering around, we'll risk infraction, and maybe removal of spark. We wouldn't want that."

I was already on top of the metallic hill. "C'mon," I said. "No harm. It can't be going far. I'm just curious." Deathroll relented.

"Okay, but if we're scrapped I'll blame you."

We wandered through the grounds, and came to the exit, where two service bots stood guard. "HALT," they said, pointing their rifles at the work bot. "GO NO FURTHER. YOU WILL BE ASSISTED MOMENTARILY."

I remained silent. Saying anything to a service bot will not register. They are programmed to prevent any bot not attending to their appointed programs. "HALT." But the worker bot did not comply. It made to go through the door, out into the streets of Polyhex. "YOU WILL BE ASSISTED MOMENTARILY." The robot steamed and smoked. It used its tactile mining welders to open the door. "HALT." The service bots aimed their weapons. The service bot turned on them.

In a matter of moments, the service bots were reduced to scrap. I did not see what happened. "Must find paradox machine!" the service bot said pitifully. We followed it tacitly through the streets, making sure not to be seen.

The place sprawled with service bots and tank drones. The high society of Cybertron in ancient times was taken away. All we wanted was for all planets to be like ours. Is that so wrong?

The service bot was all but subtle. "YOU WILL BE TAKEN IN FOR REPAIRS." Another service bot was upon us. It aimed its rifle, and a myriad of tank drones doubled up behind him. I supposed the service bots that got scrapped by the service bot had sent out a distress signal. The service bot did not desist. It continued on its way. I saw it now—it had transformed its arm into a gun, a big one too. It did that just then, and did not know what to aim it at. The tanks fired their plasma cannons directly at the service bot. It careened into the streets, a veritable wreck. A squad of other service bots rushed to it, and picked it up. "YOU WILL BE SALVAGED," they said, fluttering and flitting about, clawing the bot with their servos.

"I think we should go," Deathroll said.

I was not wont to agree. "I want to know what was going on," I said. "What is a paradox machine?" I caught—I thought—a glimpse of a Decepticon shining on that service bot. That very symbol had been outlawed a vorn ago!

The next day came as usual. While we were at Energon break, I brought up the work bot. "What about him?" Deathroll said. "Who cares?"

"I do," I said. "I thought I saw a Decepticon symbol on its back!"

"You and your fantasies."

"No, this one's real! I know they were banned, but—"

"Long before I was protoformed. Even the Autobot symbol was outlawed."

"I need to know what a paradox machine is. I'm sneaking into the repair shop and hacking into the service bot's cerebro circuits. Maybe I can trace its memory."

"Just a common malfunction. Normal thing. Happens all the time," said Deathroll. "Count me out."

"Suit yourself." I sipped my Energon.

I snuck into the repair bay that very day, breems later. The work bots flocked everywhere, fixing those lifeless shells that now cover Cybertron with their stench. My faceplate sizzled with anger: These vermin that call themselves Cybertronian dare to be the only life on the planet. How could Mega Prime, a Transformer himself, dare to take away the glory of this once flourishing planet? Primus knows. But he even outlawed the belief in Primus. I clenched my servo. "YOU WILL BE ASSISTED MOMENTARILY." Slag. I turned around. Two service bots apprehended me. I turned round. I was ready. This life—miserable. I was ready to be infracted and go out peacefully. Then I saw Deathroll's green shape sneak from behind, with a giant girder. He thwapped the two service bots over the head, and they careened to the ground. Then all I could hear was the smacking of the work bots' welding and Deathroll's glib chuckle.

"Let's jailbreak our friend," he said. "The pit if I don't do something to change this planet before I go offline."

We peeled the piles of work bots off of the rebelling one, which still steamed and smoked. Service bots rushed into the room. "YOU WILL BE ASSISTED."

The work bot aimed its gun at them. It blasted them without hesitation. "Well, now what?" said Deathroll.

"Let's go somewhere private," I said. "I know just the place."

We transformed into jet form, and I picked up the work bot. "What should we name our friend?" I said as we zipped through the skies.

"What do you think, sparky?" said Deathroll.

The work bot gaggled.

"Let's go with Ravage," I said, "after an old friend."

We arrived at what used to be the Decepticon hideout long ago. "This is Darkmount," I said, landing on the tower's high-up peak. It stank with age and dank loneliness. Polyhex was used only for mining in the last five-hundred solar-cycles.

"You do realize," said Deathroll, "we're slagged."

"Maybe," I said. "But maybe Ravage here can help us." He gave me an incredulous look. The poor work bot continued to smoke and spark.

"Paradox machine—paradox machine!"

"Let's put our friend out of his misery. Then we can extract whatever's on his brain out of his head."

"Right, as I said. But something puzzles me. How did he gain the power to transform his arm into a weapon? Moreover, how and why did his programming change? If only I knew—"

"It doesn't matter," replied Deathroll. "Let's just get this over with. I did this because I'm ready to die anyway."

I smirked. I switched off the work bot, and began to fiddle with his brain circuitry.

Chapter 2: Orion Pax

"This is amazing!"

"What?" Deathroll had been in stasis for a few breems. We had been working for two lunar cycles. Obviously, since so much time had passed, he cared little for whatever findings I would come across. "Why did you wake me up? There's no point, Megaplex. We're slagged. Those service bots will find us and kill us. Let's just give up already."

"No, look. All this time I've been fiddling around with his cerebro circuitry, but that was just beating around the bush. The true mystery lies in his body. There's something in his arms that resembles ancient Transformer technology."

"So?"

"So, that definitely has to do with his memory problem. Somehow, this work bot has memories of another Transformer. If I can get to the bottom of this problem, then we might be able to learn what the paradox machine is, and where."

"COME OUT SLOWLY. YOU WILL BE ASSISTED MOMENTARILY." It was a pair of helicopter droids.

"Slag. We're slagged," said Deathroll.

"Wait," I said. I spoke in Old Cybertronian to the work bot. It promptly turned into a gun, which slid into my hands. I aimed and fired at the helicopter droids. They fell to the ground, destroyed.

"What did you do?" Deathroll was saying. I tinkered with the work bot, trying to find out what happened. I didn't know what drove me to let slip those words: so many eons ago had the language been outlawed, the words simply jumped out of my mouth.

"I don't know," I said after a while. "I don't know if I can say it again."

"Well," Deathroll said, "more are coming. We'd better scram before they come to kill us. It won't be just two next time."

"Right."

We transformed into jet mode, and flew out of Darkmount's ruined walls. I had never felt more mystified, more accomplished. Perhaps liberty would arise from these actions, and Cybertron would be, after a long time of stagnant dryness, would be redeemed.

We alighted in Maccaddam's Bar, one of the only places where sentient bots came to take a load off. It was situated in the lower east quadrant of Iacon, which was, consequently, one of the most dangerous yet safest places to stay. It was dangerous because Iacon is where Mega Prime's High Council resides, but safe because Maccaddam's was a haven for all Transformers: "if you can pay, you can stay." I felt sure that if anything, we'd find sympathizers there, someone who also hates Mega Prime's rule.

We sat for a while, the haze of glazed Energon flagons meandering about our optics, concealed our vision. Laughter and banter bade through our audio censors. We tried to keep a low profile as possible. Then we saw something that really made my spark pump. Up on the screen on the wall in the center was a sign: ATTENTION: ROUGE ROBOTS. Above it was a picture of us, though faint, it was clearly distinguishable.

Everyone looked up, including us. "Megaplex?" said Deathroll. "I think we should go."

"I think you're right. Though I was really hoping we'd find a sympathizer."

We scrambled for the door. The day could not have been worse. The stupid work bot weighed a ton, and we were slagged.

"Let's go somewhere else. Anywhere!"

"I'll just go right off to the smelting pool myself. Might as well roast."

"Oh, c'mon, don't—"

A foot tripped me up as I exited the bar. I looked up. A transformer, clearly a sentient, glowered down at me. "What's the hurry?" he said.

Deathroll stood there stupidly. "We're just passing by," he said. "I was planning on ending my life because it's not worth living."

"Oh is that right?" the bot said. He said something in Old Cybertronian. The work bot transformed into a gun, and he caught it in his hand. "Well, what do you call this?" he pointed it at us.

We both started. I scrambled to my feet. "I—you—"

"Name's Mirage," the bot said. "I've heard of your exploits. It's quite amazing what you've done. Killing service bots. Escaping your prerogative. You're really a pair."

"Are you going to kill us?" said Deathroll.

"Nonsense," said Mirage. "I'm part of—don't tell anyone—of a rebellion. It's a small contingent. We all want Mega Prime dead. What do you say? Will you join us? We could use a pair like you, and this work bot is quite interesting, to say the least."

I was thunderstruck. "I suppose," I said hesitantly. "We just want to find out what a paradox machine is. That's what this robot keeps talking about."

Mirage rested the gun on his shoulder. "I see," he said. "Well that's very interesting. I've never heard of that. Let's go to the power plant in Tarn. That's where the rebellion is stationed."

"Good. More people to be killed," said Deathroll.

"C'mon, a little more spirit," I said to him silently as we walked off. "Let's try to be as optimistic as possible."

We arrived at the power plant presently. Mirage punched in a code to open the door.

"Remember, the password is MEGATRON. I'm sure you're familiar with the Decepticon." Deathroll and I exchanged glances.

The power plant was old and dusty. Lots of pipes and shafts armed through a poorly-lit hallway, and we could hear drippy noises spiking into our audio receptors. The metal ground resounded with our footfalls in an echo. We came to another door. "The password for this one," said Mirage, "is DECEPTICON." He punched in the code. We came to a large room with reclining receptacles and all kinds of screens and apparatuses. Two bots flew down from the ceiling. "Deathroll and Megaplex, meet Skywarp and Thundercracker."

"Hello," I said.

Mirage flumped the gun down on the ground, and it transformed back into work bot form. "More Decepticons to steal our thunder? I think not," said Thundercracker.

"Hey! No one steals your thunder but me," said Skywarp.

A larger bot meandered into the room. He had a faceshield and large cylindrical hands.

"Please be respectful as I analyze our guests," he said. He poured a blue light on our bodies. "Analysis complete. They are not harmful."

"This is Soundwave," said Mirage, plunking on one of the recliners. "I think he will be able to tap into your work bot's head.

"Splendid!" Thundercracker said.

"What's he talking about?" said Skywarp.

"What a motley bunch," said Deathroll.

"Analysis complete. I have compiled all the data within work bot's cerebro circuits."

"And?" I was anxious.

"Subject has been infected by ancient Cybertronian energy, 66% probability that energy originated from the Allspark. Subject has been consumed by the desire to eliminate the Paradox Machine."

"What _is_ the paradox machine?"

"Affirmative. Scanning has shown that it resides in Iacon, and is powered by a living Transformer."

"Well that's interesting," Deathroll said.

"What's the Transformer's name?" I said.

"Subject has been most reticent to reveal the Transformer's name and function. But there is a 56% chance that the Transformer's name is none other than Orion Pax, one of Megatron's most inspired sympathizers."

"Why does Ravage want to find the paradox machine?"

Soundwave made a significant gesticulation in our direction. "Subject is convinced that the paradox machine is the only thing holding together this universe. Should the machine be destroyed, Mega Prime and his council would be eliminated."

"Why?"

"Studies of the work bot's brain shows that there is a 88% that Mega Prime came from the future."

There was a dank silence for a little while. "Well what are we waiting for?" I said. "Let's go and destroy the paradox machine!" Mirage just entered the room.

"Hello my friends and comrades," he said. "What is the news?"

"The paradox machine," I said," is the only way Mega Prime can exist."

"Oh, is that right?" said Mirage. "I wouldn't know anything about that."

"We've got to destroy it!" I said.

"I'm with you," Thundercracker said, "but how do we find it?"

"Soundwave?" I said.

"Subject has no knowledge of where the paradox machine is."

"Well that's a bummer," said Skywarp.

"Like I said," Mirage said, "I wouldn't know anything about that. But guesswork can go a long way."

"What do you mean?" Deathroll said.

"Mega Prime's headquarters are in Iacon, as well as his High Council. This paradox machine is obviously important to him. So I say we should probably look in Iacon for the paradox machine. With our combined might, we should be able to breech the city walls, find it, and destroy it. What do you say?"

"Sounds convincing enough," Deathroll said.

"I predict a 99% chance of success of our endeavors," Soundwave said.

"Right!" I said, "Then let's go."

Chapter 3: Downfall

We raided a service bot armory. Nothing could be more thrilling: we tore the bots apart with Ravage, one by one, and set the armory ablaze. Then we took as many plasma rifles as we could muster. Cloaked, we paraded out into the starlit night, partaking in war relived.

We arrived just outside of the _Ion_ , the very same ship that Mega Prime used to defeat the Decepticons and subjugate the planet eons ago. Ravage began to shiver and flash. He spoke in that ancient language once again. "Paradox machine—close—"

"Well, what're we waiting for? Let's scrap the place and destroy it once and for all!"

It was Skywarp. The others were whooping.

"Wait—" Mirage said. "That's too easy. Would Prime really hide the machine in his starship, or somewhere even deeper in the heart of Cybertron?"

"What do you mean?" I said.

"Perhaps the paradox machine is hidden away in a more grounded location, where its effects will last longer. Do you see what I mean?"

"I think so," I replied. "So, what you're saying is, if it is moved, maybe it will diminish in strength, and—"

"Tear the planet—no—the universe apart from the inside out. I know of a certain holding bay not far from here, just inside Iacon's walls. It leads to an underground passage that will take us into the heart of Cybertron. Let's go there. I think Ravage's reaction to the _Ion_ is too conspicuous."

He went off. "I have a bad feeling about this," Deathroll said. I shook my head, and followed Mirage. I could not doubt that I had a bad feeling as well.

I could not dissuade my doubtful inklings. The night sky of Cybertron seemed to be an omen. Who was this Mirage? How could we know we could trust him? "PRESENT YOURSELVES FOR INSPECTION." We had just came into the walls. Two sentinels approached us. "THIS WILL TAKE ONLY A MOMENT."

We aimed our stolen guns at the sentinels. "Wait—" Mirage said. "There is a better way. Everyone put your servos on me." We did.

The sentinels clicked and whirred. "MALFUNCTION. PROCESSING. NO TRANSFORMERS REMAIN. RETURN TO BUSINESS."

"What did you do?" I asked Mirage.

"A little trick I learned. I turned us invisible. C'mon, let's go. The holding bay is close by."

Thrilled, I felt success inevitable. We traipsed through the city streets, wary of oncoming sentinels. Any moment, I surmised, could be our last.

Tank drones and sentinels abounded as we scampered the streets of Iacon. No doubt word had spread all the way to Prime about our exploits. I was sure he quaked in fear. We came to a dark alley. Mirage was gone.

"Where'd the boss go?" said Thundercracker, pointing his pilfered gun about. "This stinks of something rotten." I turned to answer him. A blistering shot fired from above us, and jabbed right into Thundercracker's superstructure.

"What?" confusion and fear amassed. "What's going on?"

I checked Thundercracker. The shot had cut all the way through his upper torso. "He's—he's offline!"

"I predict 90% certitude that we will be shot in the same—" another blinding bullet pierced the air, and snapped through Soundwave.

"Let's get out of here!" Skywarp was saying. He transformed into jet mode. He cut through the air and blinding speed, but helicopter and tank drones stopped him on the other side of the alley. He screeched.

"HOLD. YOU WILL BE ASSISTED MOMENTARILY."

"Well, Megaplex, I hate to say I told you so, but," Deathroll said. Another bullet bored into his skin, and he fell to the ground.

"PREPARE FOR SPARK EXTRACTION AND ELIMINATION."

The sentinels and tank drones began to converge on my location. I pointed Ravage back and forth. Then a blunt yet sharp sensation bit into me, and I went all but offline from the blow. I saw Mirage's feet at my swooned eyes, and he kicked my side. "Pathetic runt. This should be the last of them."

I awoke in near-stasis, held down on some kind of table. I tried to move, but my joints were stiff. I found Ravage plunked in a corner in the room. I heard a blip dripping from somewhere behind me, like water trickling into a sink. I peeled my optics around, panicking. I fell back into stasis.

Waking light awoke me. A short bot tended to my wound. "How do you feel?" he said, as if to scorn me.

"I feel ready to scrap you," I said. "Where is that wretch Mirage?"

Mirage walked into the room with a blue bot with similar build to Mirage. "Right here," he said. "I never told you my full name. I am Special Agent Mirage, of the IPO. My function is to keep the peace and allow for a better future. This is Agent Blurr, esteemed member of Prime's High Council." Blurr bowed.

I struggled to speak. I still was groggy and dilapidated. But I laughed all the same. "You know," I said. "All you're doing is making this a lifeless planet. We Transformers ravish in war!"

"This is a planet of robots," said Mirage. "Robots are pitiless, soulless beings. Prime is only bringing about our truest state. Sentience brings desire for war and destruction. 'Freedom is the right of all sentient beings,' but what if there were no sentience? Then nothing matters anymore."

"You fiend!" I said.

"Do you know," Mirage said, "that this planet once flourished with life? Now only the council and small outcroppings of leftovers from older times remain. Soon, as Prime's lifespan depletes, there will be no life at all. Only droids, programmed to mine and sustain each other. That way, there will be no freedom. There will be no war."

I grunted. "Did _you_ know," I said, "that Ravage over there was filled with life from the Allspark just a little while ago? Even if this world merely survives, you cannot take away our desire and purpose to be fully alive!"

Mirage snapped his finger. A horrendous surge of electricity zapped through my body. "Did you feel that?" Mirage said. "That was fear. And I can control and tweak your nerve receptors in any way I want. You will feel fear like you would in any horrible nightmare. Do you know why I will fill you with so much fear? _You must tell me everything you know about that work-bot_. It is imperative. It is not whether you want to live or not. It is about how much fear you want to feel."

I was shaking, and nothing else mattered. Nothing else mattered but the fear. My optics jostled with sheer pain, pain felt from some kind of atrocious coming monster, an encroaching shadow. The more I shivered one moment, the more I shivered the next. "We will leave you with your fear. When we come back, you must tell us everything," Mirage said. He and the other two left us, and switched off the lights.

Darkness combed my body as I lay sleepless yet restful on the bed of steel. Oil dripped from my optics, an act of my superstructure rejecting life itself. I wanted to die—I could tell them nothing of the droid. I waited with bated sighs for them returning to drill me and kill me.

They came unexpectedly. Light flashed on my body, sun-like beams burning my optics, burning my every fiber. They jostled in, and I could only hear their footfalls. A great weight bumped into my chest. "Where did that work-bot come from?"

"What do you know?"

"Where is the Allspark?"

"How did it transform?"

I thought there were only two. This crowd of voices blasting into my audio receptors quickly proved that notion incorrect. They zapped me with the fear-inducing mechanism again, and flashed off the lights. All I could hear was growling.

Growling.

Mumbling.

Shadows shifting, then harsh tones jabbing into my audio receptors. "I don't know anything," I whimpered, but I only registered more growling, more fear. "I don't know. Please just end my miserable life."

The lights flashed on again. Mirage took me by the throat. "Tell us everything!"

"I know nothing," I uttered in complete weakness.

He strangled me tighter, the noose of his servos squeezing, squeezing. "I know nothing," I repeated.

He released me.

"That is the correct answer." He stepped away, and my shrouded eyes began to dim. Some service bots trundled into the room.

"PREPARE FOR SPARK EXTRACTION AND ELIMINATION."

"YOU WILL BE ASSISTED MOMENTARILY."

I looked, small bumps of noise escaping my mouth, jagged spikes of sound. I closed my eyes.

But it would not be that easy. Rumbles which I heard like the bells of death shook the room. Blasts from the corner tore through the bated air, and fire flamed all about my feet. I looked as well as I could. A tremendous, shining bot crept closer to us, and smacked Mirage and the others out of the way, shot them. A pair of teeth snipped my bondages, and heaped my body up onto its protruding vertebrae. A catlike head turned and scowled affectionately, and zoomed off, tearing through service bot after service bot, till we reached the outside of Iacon's citadel. I smiled. So much had happened, but I was yet free.

Chapter 4: Planet of the Terrorcons

The creature ravaged the Autobot base, baying and screaming as it breathed fire from its nostrils and fired particle blasts out of twin cannons mounted on its back. I knew it then—it was Ravage, come to save me. It spoke in that ancient language, which I recognized at once. "Tripedicus Council awaits." It whirred and clicked. "Must bring the proxy to Cybetron's moon." The catalyst? In a drowse, I surmised its cryptic meaning. I was the proxy. But for what?

We sped toward a seemingly lifeless sector of Iacon. Ravage pawed about a monitor, and a great rumbling shook beneath our feet. That was the last thing I remembered.

"He seems quite… slim for the proxy." I heard a voice say.

"Perhaps we should give him back to Prime."

I realized where I was now—on some kind of board, bound to it on some kind of electrical bondage, my senses just then coming to me. With waking eye, I surveyed my surroundings: a dank, deep hole with a fluttering light and three pathetic, elder looking bots glowering at me. "What do you want with me?" I asked. "Where am I?"

"You are on the lesser moon of Cybertron, Cronos," said one of them, "We are the Tripedicus Council. Ravage brought you here, after being apprehended by Mega Prime's army. He put you under our custody to be examined and terminated."

"Then why don't you get it over with?"

"Ravage," one of them said, "was a fervent cohort of ours before and during the war. We existed as a cohesive unit established by Megatron himself. Obviously, you must be special if the Allspark revived Ravage for you instead of us."

"There are other rebellions," said another, "most shut down before anything happens. But this is an exclusive case. We have searched your memory banks. _You_ named that work bot Ravage, did you not?"

"Yes," I said in Old Cybertronian, "I knew both Megatron and Ravage. They were close friends of mine as well."

They gave a collective gasp. "Very well," they said at last. "Your fate is equivocal, then. We must deduce what will become of you."

"Perhaps you should ask Ravage," I said, grinning. "He might give you the upper hand in your debate."

They assented, and sent for Ravage.

"Long ago," Ravage said in Old Cybertronian, "Megatron sent me on a reconnaissance mission to spy on a certain pro-war bot named Orion Pax. He was among Autobots who did not support the war, and Megatron wanted him to come to his side to gain leverage. However, that very day, as I slinked through the environs of Iacon, a portal opened, twisting and bending time and space, and five Transformers came through it, armed with otherworldly weaponry, and captured Orion Pax.

"Naturally, I followed them. They shot everyone in sight, and I could easily be next. They went to the depths of Iacon, deep within the citadel, and chained Orion Pax to some kind of machine, which they called the paradox machine. It was a cubicle of some sort, and it seemed to rid Orion of life. His optics sprang open, and he looked dead, cold. I bolted from that location, fast as I could, but the _Ion'_ s lasers found me before I could escape. That's when Mega Prime's onslaught ensued."

The council stroked their chins as they listened to Ravage's story. A good ten cycles passed before they responded. "Interesting," said one of them, "interesting indeed. We are held at a crossroads. Either we let you live and put our own lives at risk, in which we all will die, or another maneuver would be taken."

"Which is?" I said, full of abject agitation.

"There is a certain planet," they said, "where certain bots go to leave Cybertron forever. They are never to return. Once they go there, they 'die.' They cease to exist. Given the knowledge Ravage gave us, I am sure you would be quite incensed to return to Cybertron, but, such a return would not be by our power or jurisdiction."

"So—I am to be banished?" I said.

"Precisely," they said. "You will be banished, and _never to return_. Understood?" I caught a fleeting glimpse of a smile on their faces, in the dimly lighted room.

"Understood," I said. They rose, and opened the door to the room. A service bot came and undid my chains.

We left for the planet of Char within the next solar cycle. That same ship that Ravage used we boarded, Ravage and I both boarded, homesick of Cybertron already. The ship rose into the black-lit sky, stars and nebulas shining in the distance. The driver was an austere service bot of sorts, and I sat across from two shapely looking bots, large but modest. They began to speak amongst themselves. "Been a long time, eh, Hubcap?"

"Hm?"

"Since we left the planet."

"Yes, Ironhide. I suppose it has."

"I can't believe a Prime actually banished us. They say Primes are venerable types. At least that Sentinel Prime was. Until Mega Prime came and tore the Matrix right out of his dead grip—what a slagger!" He sniggered, a bump on his great belly with each laugh. "I miss the good ol' days. I might say I even miss the 'cons!"

"I wouldn't know anything about that," said Hubcap, gazing out the window. "Nothing at all." He sighed. Invigorated, I spoke to Ironhide in old Cybertronian.

"You were there in the wars?" I said.

"Why, yes," said Ironhide. "Sounds like you were too!"

I nodded. "This one was, too," I said, patting Ravage, who purred. He spoke in Old Cybertronian an expression of jubilance and recognition. We were silent for the rest of the trip.

The scorned wastelands of Char made it no wonder that it only inhabited the most gross of those banished from their home. Disgusting organic creatures with no heads and many feet roamed the sanded countryside, and the whole place stank of refuse. I knew why I had come here: only to live for a short time and die. No Energon could be seen for miles. The ship spat us out like refuse and chunked away through the sky, and left us wondering what our fates would be. "Whelp," said Ironhide, "we're slagged."

"That's what my friend always used to say," I said, "and if he said that now, he'd be twofold right. Let's go. It's good to know if there're others like us here."

We wandered for many an hour, exchanging morose faces and insignificant syllables. The sandy shoals adroitly stuck to our soles, and the wind batted our faces harshly. Finally, we came to what could humorously be referred to as civilization. Blocky, ruined husks of crafted rock chunks stood in our path, wind whapping their pathetic exteriors. We entered one of them, and found a cloaked figure, with shiny optics glaring at nothing in particular. I threw off his cloak. "Offline," I said. He reeked of death: even the scraplets that infested his body crumbled at the slightest touch. He held a sign between his folded fingers. It read: "NO ENERGON." It was true: we were slagged. I should have listened to Deathroll all that time ago.

We wandered from building to building, finding similar results in each. Either vacated (no doubt by hopeful Transformers in search of Energon), or filled with the stench of death. Finally, we came to a house with an online bot. He wore a cloak like that first one, and held out his hand to us, quavering. "Name… Sandstorm… what is yours?"

We each said our names.

"Terrorcons… undead Transformers… ravaged this city… disease spreading…"

We exchanged glances.

"Came here… with the other Wreckers… ran out of Energon… Seek out Starscream… Might know something… lives on tallest mountain… farewell."

His optics faded, and he went offline. We left the building, a glimmer of bittersweet hope filling my superstructure.

We set out for the tallest mountain as Sandstorm had said. The sand chunked its way into our superstructures, a black portent of death. Terrorcons? Nothing sounded more frightful than that. We had no weapons. We had dwindling energy.

And then we saw one. It feasted on some poor unfortunate bot, lying there dead. A horrendous sight: teeth mangled jagged stones, eyes a fierce flame that never died out, and a broken, scarred body that looked like it had been ripped open. It screeched and tore its arm across its mouth. Its screech resounded throughout the area, and it began to jostle toward us. "Let's go!" I said, but Hubcap and Ironhide stayed stiff in the turf.

"What—what is that thing?" Hubcap said.

"I'd wager," Ironhide said, "it's a Terrorcon. Some terror that is-! I'll show him what-for!" And he ran up to the bot, ready to pound his servo into it. But the Terrorcon simply swatted him away. Then he dove onto his fallen body, and screamed like an astro-bat, tearing Ironhide's body to shreds with his bare servos.

"I—I can't believe it!" Hubcap said. "He was one of the best Autobot warriors! He—now—" The Terrorcon enjoyed its feast. Hubcap wrung his servos through his head.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Let's go. It's only a matter of time before he gets us too. Let's transform and get out of here!" Ravage scowled, and started to sprint off. Hubcap duly transformed and sped forth in vehicle mode, far from this place. I flew off in jet mode.

The tallest mountain (or what I had hoped to be the tallest mountain) poked out of the planet like a finger, not far from us. "I can't go on for much longer without Energon," said Hubcap, huffing. "Are we almost there?"

"I—I think so!" I said. Then I heard more of that shrill screaming. The Terrorcons were upon us. They screeched through the air in jet mode, while others peeled their way out of the turf. "Hubcap! You've got to make it!"

Hubcap could not keep up. A sandstorm separated him and I. Ravage continued to sprint close to my vicinity. "We've got to go back for him!" I said.

Then Ravage said something in Old Cybertronian that rang too true to my audio receptors: "The strong live and the weak survive." It was something Megatron always said. I heaved a sigh. I supposed he was right. We continued our nightly voyage, coming ever closer to the mountain. It would only be a matter of time now.

The tip of the mountain was nigh. Ravage leapt from cleft to cleft, a deft stroke of movement in each one. The pearly moons of Charr glistened on us like beacons. We could hear the hoarse heaves of the Terrocons on our heels. I could feel the energy leaving my superstructure as I ascended further and further into the hoary skies. I glanced down at a glowy substance beaming hotly from the tip of the mountain. Ravage called me anon, a cry for help. I transformed quickly and rushed to his side, as three Terrorcons accosted us. A smoky fog enveloped our forms, and a purple glowing emanated about us, which looked like Energon. The Terrorcons reached for our faces. "So, you've come," said a voice from afar, "so good of you to do so." It was a tinny, high-pitched voice. I recognized it at once.

"Starscream." I sat in the presence of a legend. Ravage looked about. "What is your gist in this?"

"Can't you see?" Starscream said, "this is my army. I forewent my pathetic mortal state and became a Transformer subsisting off of other Trasnformers."

"So you're a Terrorcon?"

Starscream laughed maniacally, to say the least. "Yes. But more than that. I'm a sentient Terrorcon. I used, little by little, what technology Mega Prime used to create his drones, to infect living Transformers. Then, I melded their undead sparks into this liquid pool of Energon, and fed on it to gain the ultimate power! Now, nothing can stand in my way."

I was filled with thrill. "So," I said, "it is only a matter of time before we attack Cybertron?"

"'We?' Don't make me laugh. What would prevent me from turning you into a Terrorcon?"

I spoke in Ancient Cybertronian: "'Peace through tyranny.'"

"You knew Megatron?" he said, anxiously. "When? How?"

I told him my name, and Ravage said his. "I think Cybertron has been pining for war," I said, "I am on your side. Mega Prime is long overdue for punishment."

"Very well," said Starscream. "You are welcome to join us."

Chapter 5: The Deep Void

"Quickly! Shoot that carrier down! Spare no one! Decepticons, follow me to victory!"

Lunar cycles had passed. After eating some of that liquid Energon, I no longer felt normal. But it was the only way to coexist with the Terrorcons: Otherwise they would rip me apart. A prisoner ship lay at our feet. I misunderstood Starscream: Why would we want to kill those aboard it? Would they not be likely allies? I had no time to complain. We killed all those aboard. "Now," Starscream said in a circuit-wrenching growl, "let's infuse the ship with the Energon. It will serve as our way back to Cybertron. Terrorcons! Feed on the prisoners! Make them your fuel for our conquest!"

The Terrorcons, a whole mass of them, trundled up to the wasted prisoners, and sank their teeth into their metallic flesh. Starscream took out a hose connected to a cube filled with the Spark-infused Energon, and poured it into the ship. It slowly but surely repaired itself, and there before us was our means to return to Cybertron. But I was dispassionate.

We arrived after a long time of traveling. Ravage purred at my side, remaining silent throughout the voyage. But we were not welcomed pleasantly.

Anti-aircraft blasts poured onto our ship like quicksilver. Starscream had been traveling outside in jet mode. "Terrorcons! Attaaaaaack!"

The ship crumbled, and I transformed into jet mode. The Terrorcons ripped out of the ship, splaying all across the planet. Many identical cannons fired on us, albeit tank drones, sentinels, and service bots. I feared my own demise. I crept into the depths of Cybertron's tunnels, feeling a coward. I had lost Ravage.

Dank, deep and wet, I plunged through moist air and smoke. I huddled beneath a huge beam, and curled up. I had no idea the onslaught would be so vigorous: Everything seemed so hopeless. The way those cannons tore apart the Terrorcons made me realize how ridiculous our conquest of Cybertron actually was.

Hours rolled by. Portentous pools of liquid smacked with drips from the ceiling. I felt like I was all but online. Apparitions of friends long gone swept into my view, shaking their heads at me, filled with disgust at my rebellion, at my futile attempts to return Cybertron to its rightful state. A rolling noise distracted my delusions. I ignored it. Then I crunched my head against my servos.

After an hour of dreamless sleep, the rolling noise recommenced. I looked left to right, up and down, and soon found I was surrounded by small metallic balls. They made a distinct _voip_ , and before me was an image of Mega Prime in all his splendor, holding Starscream by the throat. Surrounding him was the Tripedicus Council. I gasped, and my optics sprung wide open. "Observe, hopeless rebel," said Mega Prime, "as I squeeze the life out of this pitiful Decepticon."

"Why is the Tripedicus Council there?"

"You may notice, you worthless piece of slag, that those you might call your friends are here, among us; but you would be wrong." The Tripedicus Council fell to pieces, crumbling like sifting rocks. "They are but ploys of my own design, their original selves died many epochs ago. I am invincible! Everything that has happened up until now has been according to my own plans."

I watched as Prime snapped Starscream's neck, and the whittled fiend fell to the ground, dead. Then, much to my trepidation, Ravage appeared in the scene, with a jovial stride. "This work bot was easy to recalibrate. Now he is my slave once more. You were selected long ago to be destroyed in this way. This slaughter makes the last of the rebels. It was I that activated the Allspark to turn the workbot into Ravage."

I felt white as a burning supernova. "It is very simple. Turn those who would rebel away from their daily duties, and have them organize other rebels to race to their own doom."

"WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST KILL ME?" I hotly ran my mouth against the images, splaying my hands. I felt cold. Deathly cold.

"Had you not gone to Charr, still seething in rebellious rage, Starscream, this piece of slag, would never have come here, nor would I dispose of the last rebels. Soon, very soon, this planet will roil in the peace and tranquility of nothingness. No sentience, and therefore, no war."

"HOLD. YOU WILL BE ASSISTED MOMENTARILY."

"PREPARE FOR INFRACTION AND SPARK EXTRACTION."

I kicked the rollers aside, and transformed to jet mode, booked it. I sped through the tunnels, surrounded by service bots. I knew for sure. This would be the day I'd die. I heard Prime's voice running after me: "The only peace is the peace of lifelessness."

"There will be no sentience, and therefore no war."

"It is pointless to resist. You will die. Running is pointless." A tank drone stopped the next tunnel. The service bots traipsed round the corner, and I was cornered—finished. They aimed their rifles. The tank drones did the same. I closed my optics. _This is it—the end._ They fired. My body was torn, scrapped, ripped, slashed, diced. My only appendage left was my head, and everything else withered. Then everything went a hazy, greenish black. That was it. I was dead.

I awoke in a white nothingness—disembodied. It felt like my face, though not really there, was connected to a great white board. Everything else shone. Then—in a flicker of an eye—many different visages flashed before me, faces of ancient Cybertronians, until they came to more recently-protoformed ones. "Greetings, sparkless one. I am Primon."

"Who? Why am I not dead?"

"I am Primon, the writer of the Primordial Program, the catalyst for Cybertronian thought. You are not dead because you bear no Spark."

"How is that possible? Don't all Transformers have Sparks? Then this is it. I am truly dead."

The blinkered nothingness seemed to speak to me softly. "You can never truly die, Megaplex. You were made as a proxy for Megatron. Should he die, he would inhabit your own body, made alive again by a program similar to the Primordial Program itself. Megatron set these things in motion before you came into being. However, it was never finished. Mega Prime killed him the day he would finish his task."

I fell silent for a good time. "Then—" I said. "—there must be a way to will Megatron back into being, and—"

"There is no need. Should you attempt, only grave peril will ensue. Megatron was defeated in your universe. And nothing could be more hoped for. I will send you into the Deep Void, and there you will know true peace."

"The Deep Void?"

"Your consciousness will be melded with the consciousnesses of Transformers not yet born or those already dead. Then, in due time, a new Transformer will be born from the masses of transfused consciousnesses. But you will always live. You are special."

"No."

"What?"

"I will seek out Megatron. I will transfuse my being with him. Then, I will bring him back. It is the only way. Megatron is my master."

"Very well. I have no means to stop you. But know this: A universe with no Megatron is a happy one. Should you attempt to bring him back, you may have no effect on the universe at all. Or you may go into a completely different universe, and create him in a universe not ready for the likes of him at all."

I listened to him naught, and I focused all my energies on my memory of Megatron. Something clicked, and I fell endlessly for only a split second.

"I am alive again!" said Megatron. I succeeded. "But what is this? I am in a new body. That Autobot Mega Prime killed me. This new one—" but a blast suckered Megatron to the ground. Stooping up, he looked all around. War tore Cybertron apart. The Ion flew above us, shooting its plasma bursts out of its cannons. "It will have to suffice. I must find the Nemesis, and bring down Mega Prime's flagship!"

He had no trouble finding Polyhex. The body he inhabited transformed into a jet, much like the one that I had when I was alive. It did not suit Megatron—he needed raw power to be on his side. But I realized the futility of this endeavor. The Ion would annihilate all the Decepticons without any difficulty. Unless, of course, Megatron would fly right into the side of the ship, but that would cost him his life. I knew Megatron would never do such a thing. "Ah!" he said, in the flickering chaos. The broken, fiery husk of the Nemesis stood in our way. He quickly entered it, and came to the broken bridge.

He bulldozed it through the dirt of Polyhex, the very same turf that I mined in my own time, a vorn later. The thrust blasted behind it. Megatron inserted his arm into two cylindrical drivers, and they reacted to his touch. He grinned. The whole of the bridge seemed to repair itself immediately. "Megatron's energy signature recognized," a voice said. The bottom thrusters levered us into the skies, and Megatron began to fly it through the twilit skies of Cybertron. "Computer!" he said with gusto, "set coordinates for the Ion. We will send Mega Prime and his coup to oblivion!" and he laughed with mirth.

Then I remembered: The Nemesis was never recovered after Mega Prime's reign of terror ended. Something seemed horribly wrong with this. I remembered then and there Primon's remonstrance: "You may have no affect on the universe at all." I felt pitiful. But what happened to the Nemesis and Megatron?

A strange, alien noise chimed behind Megatron. "Who dares to board the Nemesis without my permission?" he said.

A small, soot-black humanoid with a huge rifle appeared in the bridge. "I am Procyon. You are the reawakened Megatron. Your Spark is needed for the Omnitron project."

"I'm sorry," said Megatron, "but I cannot oblige." He fired a shot from his miniscule gun. Procyon dodged.

"Resistance is futile. The Liege Maximo requires your Spark." He fired from his huge gun (too big for him, it seemed). It ripped open Megatron's side, and he careened into the ground. I felt hot, twofold slaughtered, this time in Megatron's body.

I heard Primon's voice. "You will be cast into the Deep Void. Eternity awaits." Megatron closed his eyes. The Nemesis started to fall into some kind of black-lit portal. The light of the Matrix guided me into the Deep Void. At last, I could be at peace. At last. ***

EPILOGUE: The Fright of the Swarm

"That's why I brought about this universe, Fixit," Mega Prime said, "to eliminate the threat of the swarm. There was simply nothing we could do about it." They were the last remaining Transformers. Nothing more remained of the planet but deep void. "The cries of slaughtered Transformers, made physical; hopelessly flowing through the universe. If I had gotten rid of war, rid of sentience, I would have—"

"They're all gone," said Fixit. "There's no way to create more perpetual motion androids. The disease of the Terrorcons only makes them hostile to us and themselves. I'm sorry, Prime. I'm sorry."

Prime moved his nearly-dysfunctional leg. "In the end," he said, "the Decepticons won. We lost. And the mysterious will of Primus remains an enigma."

They were silent for many breems. The dusty air bit into their circuits. "I suppose," said Prime, "that this is the end. Farewell my friend."

"Prime! I would have followed you to the end of the time. You killed Megatron, back in our own universe. You created the paradox machine using Tachyon's schematics, before he died. You conquered this Cybetron and prevented the threat of the Swarm. I know there is something you of all bots can do. Please don't give up."

"I was not spared, Fixit. I was not spared my share of trouble. The Decepticons were right. They were right. Darkness falls. The rest—is silence."

"Wait, Prime! Don't die-!"

But in the cold twilit wasteland, Prime's optics went dim, and Fixit was left alone, alone in a new era of the Transformers, a new era of the universe. He looked up, a Cybertron robbed dry of energy and life splayed before him. It would not be long, he thought, before he would die.

The Hub. It exists outside of time and space. One being lives there, in quiet solitude, hatching plots for all the universes outside. Procyon, the bearer of the Primordial Program, came into his presence presently. "My Liege Maximo," he said, "I bring you the reborn Megatron's Spark."

The Liege Maximo opened his mouth to speak. "Good. Add it to the Pool of Transfusion. Now no one will stand in our way. The Swarm will envelope the whole universe, turning all planets to cold steel. All the universes will become ours. All will become like Primus, the Lord of All."

Procyon bowed, and placed the spark into a Pool of Transfusion. "Thunderwing," the Liege said, pointing his huge arm. "Galvatron. Megatron. Death's Head. Only a few remain to complete my collection. Then we will have all the bodies we need to construct the Omnitron. Like a harbinger, he will bring about death and destruction to all flesh creatures that resist, and all Transformers that dare to as well. Nothing will stand in our way. Every universe shall turn to steel. It is inevitable. Then," he said, a significant pause in his breath, "Unicron will no longer have preeminence." He crushed a miniature of Unicron in his hand. A deadly pause ensued between the two of them. Procyon wondered: would his involvement in this reward the living? He remembered, with closed eyes, his time on Earth as a human. He remembered, for a split second, peace. Nothing could be more desired.

THE END


End file.
